


YES

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Anger Management, M/M, Reform, Religious Conflict, Self-Destruction, Sins, Stress Relief, inner conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 10:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16574909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: His continued irritability was seemingly mocked from afar by the disturbing silence of the night. The gust of air nipping at his neck drove home that skin crawling sensation of annoyance as he snuffled, wiped the back of his hand against the cherry red tip of his nose. His cheeks flushed from the growing cold as leaves prance across the earth in taunting displays of grace. He raised his gaze with another mirthless grumble, locking onto the one thing he wanted to see least of all.It was huge, god ugly and a complete and total waste of scarce materials. It laughed at him, fondly agreeing to his miserable state with cynical delight. The large white paneling forming three blocky clumsy letters in a well overused exclamation. YES.





	YES

**Author's Note:**

> This will come in a couple parts. Its a work in progress. Hope you enjoy.

It must have been fate, when Jasper grumbled irritably late that evening. His bright blue eyes clouded with weariness, bruises inking along the underside from sleep deprivation for the third day? Or was it the fourth? He couldn’t recall. Everything blurred together, even the dark croppings of trees that spotted the mountain side rising up to the ridge overlooking the Holland Valley. Jasper’s stomach rumbled in protest as his eyes flickered from the trees to the bodies of bliss enraged bears he just took down. The blood splattering the earth was a sickening reminder that he couldn’t remember the last time he ate.  _ Properly ate. _ Granola bars and one apple the day prior did not count as acceptable forms of consumption. 

 

His continued irritability was seemingly mocked from afar by the disturbing silence of the night. The gust of air nipping at his neck drove home that skin crawling sensation of annoyance as he snuffled, wiped the back of his hand against the cherry red tip of his nose. His cheeks flushed from the growing cold as leaves prance across the earth in taunting displays of grace. He raised his gaze with another mirthless grumble, locking onto the one thing he wanted to see least of all.

 

It was huge, god ugly and a complete and total waste of scarce materials. It laughed at him, fondly agreeing to his miserable state with cynical delight. The large white paneling forming three blocky clumsy letters in a well overused exclamation.  **YES** .

 

Jasper got the impulsive desire to watch those three letters burn with the rest of the valley. His grumbling stomach clenched in hollow vengeance as he began his trek up along the hiking paths towards the offending sign ahead. 

  
  


It took longer for Jasper to reach the damn thing than it did to take it down to smoldering heaps of debris. A few well aimed explosive arrows and the whole thing crumbled like a house of sticks. He set fire to the remnants, watching it burn up like tinder and sat himself down with a weary sigh. The warmth of the flames was a welcome relief to the cold chill of the early morning dew speckling his form. The sun was peeking over the Whitetails, gleaming the first shreds of warmth over the land. The days had been considerably dreary and cold with the change in seasons, the leaves awash in the fall colors as if the forests had self-combusted into a fiery explosion almost over night. Much like John’s sign. 

 

Jasper settled into the small notch of hillside and watched the morning grow, spreading golden light across the Valley. At some point he had drifted off into a gentle doze with his bag tucked to his chest and his back to the remnants of rebar and steel posts. The crackling embers fading away with the harsh gusts of wind pulling through the ridges and steep inclines. 

 

When the mute awoke, it was to a gun barrel pointed in his face and a handful of displeased peggies standing around looking at the disaster. One plucked the charred bits of fiberglass from the wreckage, still able to make out the shape of an arrow bolt. “John isn’t happy with you. What do you have to say for yourself?” The question was ridiculous, as the mute gazed up in utter disbelief at the surrounding peggies. The sun had reached its highest peak in the cloudy grey skyline, breaching the scattered blanketing of dull grey to let out speckled rays across the land. Jasper’s blue eyes were watery from the sharpness of the light, cheeks flushed a wind battered red and fingers so cold he could barely unfurl them from their clutched position, fisted around the canvas fabric of his bag. 

 

Realizing the continued silence was not going to change in their presence, the peggies hurriedly collected their troublesome quarry and filed into the cramped seating of an Eden’s Gate truck. Jasper visibly squished between two large unwashed hairy figures, making his nose crinkle up in disgust. Though, he figured he himself was smelling a bit ripe from the prolonged absence of a proper shower and soap. It was too cold to take a dip into the lakes and streams, the water safe only in a few choice areas but brisk enough to freeze his soft bits off in a single splash. He was left with even colder briefer showers when he could find them and an absence of soap or desire to tempt fate with staying under long enough to suds up and rinse down. He made it this long without suffering hypothermia, he intended to keep that winning streak up.

 

The drive to John’s Ranch was a long and uncomfortable one. The silence alone was problematic for the anxious mute but the position in which he was trapped felt far worse an endurance. There was an elbow rubbing against his rib cage every time the truck hit a pothole or bump, driving the painful shoots deeper into his chest. Another limb was tucked behind him as the peggy moved away from the door to prevent from being banged against the window when the vehicle rocked them back and forth inside. Fingers brushing and grasping at places Jasper was certain Joseph would call sinful. His futile attempts at squirming weren’t any better received when he sought a more comfortable spot. Beady eyes scowling down at him, bodies tense with unease as they watched him with dagger like intent. He huffed a sigh and gave in, enduring the rest of the ride until freedom.

 

John’s displeasure was a concentrated explosion made known the moment Jasper stepped out of the truck. The herald was already storming off his porch in the mute’s direction, fists curled tightly until his knuckles were blanched white. Jasper’s expression was a neutral facade that seemed to only infuriate John more. “If you didn’t belong to my brother, I would make you rebuild that sign piece by piece. I would work you until your fingers bled and bury you beneath it.” He snarled through clenched teeth, bright orbs narrowed on him with deadly precision. It was the most riled up Jasper has seen John, and that includes the time he bit the baptist for taking what wasn’t his.

 

Some part of Jasper knew he should probably be worried. A part of him was itching with concern for his future and the sake of his position at Jacob’s side. But a majority of him couldn’t muster the extra energy to care. He gazed down at the baptist with sleepy eyed scrutiny, watching the muscle jump in John’s neck as he returned the studious gaze with an intense one of his own. Jasper shifted from one foot to the other the gravel crunching beneath his boots, blinking for focus before his attention flitted off to another direction. It was only coincidence that it landed on the now embarrassingly empty mountain side overlooking the valley.

 

That coincidence ignited the fuming wrath beneath John’s skin as he lunged for the mute. It was only the tender threads of self-control that stopped his hands before they reached Jasper’s throat. They paused, hovering over the guard dog’s chest before slowly falling to his shoulders. A tight squeeze to the crook made Jasper wince, his gaze falling back to John’s slowly building restraint. He took a deep calming breath, a twisted cheshire smile spreading across his lips, all perfect white teeth like Jacob’s as he spoke softly, unnervingly so. “No matter.” John assured. “I will find a fitting punishment for your actions soon enough. Jacob will be here shortly.”

 

The aching numbness that clouded his mind sparked intricate little jolts through his brain at the mention of his own Herald. Jasper’s eyes perking up with interest as if a sobering hand had fallen over his lazy high, pulling it taut and tearing it away like a heavy cloth weighing him down. John’s smile only grew before he patted Jasper’s shoulder in a condescending manner, spoke briefly to the guards before turning on his heel and stalked back towards the entryway of the Ranch. Jasper stood, jaw slackened in disbelief watching the plane speckled back of the baptist disappear into the foyer. The heavy oak doors slipping shut behind him to bar the cold of the air from entering the warm interior. A firm hand fell onto Jasper’s shoulders, leading him to a far different direction, heading him towards the hangar where they would await Jacob’s presence. Jasper under the intense scrutiny of the peggies around him, guns prepared to handle more problems but none came. 

 

Jasper had dozed off in his spot on a crate, body sprawled out across the wood boards as he curled up in the idle warmth of the hangar. He lucked out that John treats Affirmation like his baby, paying a pretty penny for the indoor heating system that would keep the plane warm and compliant to his needs. Jacob was later than was expected, nearing the evening when his truck pulled up the long drive. His features were the same old stoic expression, clouded by the patches of ruddy scruff that Jasper adored in private, surprisingly soft to the touch and always a comforting presence against his skin. Jasper could only watch from a distance as Jacob’s long legs carried him in swift strides up the cedar steps and into the Ranch. Nearly an hour had passed before the behemoth figure emerged and made its way towards the hangar, a displeased look on his features. John standing behind him, lingering with a shit eating grin, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

 

“Pup, come.” Jacob’s voice boomed loudly, causing the peggies to flinch at the harsh sound. He waited for Jasper to close the distance, meeting him by the truck where a stern look directed him inside. His belongings discarded in the backseat with a sharp jerk of Jacob’s hand. Jasper’s high had faded fast, leaving the meek obedient pet jolting at the harsh demeanor of his usually soft spoken Herald. His fingers stumbled with the buckle of his seatbelt as Jacob peeled out of the driveway of the Ranch and drove far above a casual speed down the dirt track and out onto the main asphalt road. Jasper folded his hands in his lap, expecting the biting lecture to come but it never did. No hard snap or shadowy glares. No toothy snarls of reminders on behavior and quelling the aggression that reared its ugly head. 

 

Many would assume that was enough to soothe his fears but with the absence of anger, there was also the painfully blunt absence of Jacob’s playful quips and mocking humor. He was all tense muscle, coiled up like a spring ready to pop. The absence of color in his knuckles was startlingly obvious where his hand gripped the wheel. His knee bobbed in short jerky motions, a signal of distress that lured Jasper closer. The tightly wound presence warned him away, threatening a sharp chastisement if he moves too close or too quickly. As if he would come completely undone right there in the cramped space of the cab. The air was stifling with tension, suffocating which only grew when Jasper realized Jacob had passed their turn towards the Whitetails. His eyes flitting from the herald who’s own glacial blue hues never once left the road. 

 

With the passing minutes, Jasper’s mental map did a quick update and assured the mute they were heading the wrong way. This wasn’t the road home but towards the Henbane. Jasper shifted uneasily in his seat, which only grew the closer they came to Faith’s region. His breathing stifled, an absent gesture of a gloved hand clamping over his face as they crossed the old bridge with its sign cheerfully welcoming them to the Henbane. His gut twisted up as the bliss fields came into view, flickering by in blurs of green and white patches, the speedometer rising and falling as the truck rumbled and roared around the curves and edges of Faith’s region. 

 

They didn’t move any deeper within the landscape, skirting along the outer edges and keeping close to the water. It took awhile for Jasper to catch on to their true destination. Secured in the fact when the high fences greeted them across the next bridge. They weren’t headed home or to Faith’s but to Joseph’s island. Whatever conversation had passed between John and Jacob, the agreement was one that left a bitter taste in Jasper’s mouth. The feeling appeared to be mutual for the herald.

 

By the time they reached the front gates leading towards the compound, Jasper had mirrored the tightly wound posture of his handler. His fingers weaved together into a firm hold as they were greeted at the entrance, the peggies guarding the front guiding them in. Their guns lowered in the presence of the Herald, the truck riding up to the opening near the Church. People milled about curiously as Joseph stepped through to greet them. He lingered in the doorway, the empty hall at his back and the dark of evening clouding around with only the dim spotlights of overhead fixtures illuminating them. Jacob met his brother with pressed foreheads, soft words passing between them but the tension in Jacob’s posture never faltered. Jasper was directed to follow, his belongings left in the back of the truck as he was ushered into the church, trailing along behind Jacob’s larger strides. 

 

“John contacted me a short bit ago. I’ve been brought up to date on the agreement.” He informed Jacob, his tone soft and silky as if they were making a gentleman’s bet instead of whatever was really going on. Joseph came to stop at the foot of the podium, turning to face his brother who loomed over him. His jaw clenched tight, lips pursed into a firm line behind the patchy scruff. Joseph’s gaze drifted from Jacob’s taut figure towards Jasper’s lingering presence standing idly amidst the pews. “Come child.” Joseph gestured, a hand extended towards the mute. 

 

Jasper paused, his eyes flitting from Joseph to Jacob who grunted in approval, a stern expression urging him to respond quickly. His first step towards the Father was slow but each that followed was a frantic stumble to reach the man’s side where he proceeded to make himself look as small as possible. Joseph’s hand raised to Jasper’s cheek, cupping it gently as he inspected the younger man. “Do not be afraid.” He murmured, a milky sense of comfort resting on his words. The Father’s other hand reached for Jasper’s right, taking it gingerly and turning it so the dark lines of jagged scarring were exposed to curious eyes. WRATH. The marks of John’s presence laid bare across his flesh. Exposing the rawest parts of him to the world around them. “It still lives within your heart, my child. It rears itself when the world becomes too loud, too intense for your soul. A defense against the violence though it uses more violence in return.”

 

Joseph’s fingers gently outlined the marks, trailing over each letter in thought. “We will soothe it in time. The consequences of your actions have led you to me.” He assured. 

 

Jasper looked from Joseph to Jacob who’s stern gaze simply nodded in confirmation. “You're gonna spend a week with Joseph. As part of your punishment. You'll work off the debt to John. S’only right. Wouldn't you say so?” Jasper nodded slowly in understanding. Jacob’s accent was thicker in his upset, a low drawl that slurred his words together. 

 

“Do not fret. He'll be in good hands, brother.” Joseph assured, releasing Jasper’s hand as he reached to squeeze Jacob’s shoulder. His hands resting on both men, a connecting force between them like unlikely threads. 

 

Jacob nodded, tearing himself away with a grunt in his throat. “Keep me up to date. I gotta get back. Too much work to do.” He pressed, cold steely eyes briefly lingering on Jasper before parting to leave. The mute’s belongings passed off to a nearby guard who waited outside the church before the rumble of the soldier’s truck faded in the distance. It bestowed silence upon the pair, awaiting in the faint strips of light breaching through the doors for some divine intervention to guide them. Jasper wasn't eager to break the silence and instead willed that Joseph’s intrusive caressing would cease and find better distractions elsewhere.

 

As if by some miracle, the touch fell away from his cheek and dropped to his shoulder where it squeezed gently. Joseph’s lips tilted up into a modest smile. “You must be tired, child. We shall get you settled into your quarters for the night then begin your search for forgiveness at first light.” The touch spread from Jasper’s shoulder to the back of his neck then settled down further between his shoulder blades. With a firm press, he encouraged Jasper to head for the doors where the peggy awaited. The guard held up Jasper’s belongings to the mute but paused when Joseph raised a hand to halt him. “I’ll take those.” He assured, watching the guard’s gaze flicker from Jasper’s expression towards the reassuring smile of the Father before handing the bag and bow to him. 

 

Jasper’s shoulders sank a little at the exchange, his hands dropping to his sides with anxious fumbling on the hem of his flannel. Another gentle squeeze and he was ushered towards one of the smaller living quarters in the compound. They were big enough for a single person to stay, two at the most but that would make the attempt a very tight one. A simple twin bed, sink and bathroom occupied the space. A dresser in the corner and a nightstand and the only sort of table was tucked against the bed. A single window shed light within the space. Jasper was accustomed to the tiny living quarters, knowing the people gathered in one of the larger buildings for their meal times. Which, given the quiet of the compound and the lack of people moving about, it was long past dinner time. Everyone else had returned to their sleeping quarters for the night. Jasper’s hollow stomach was silent for the first time in days, having lost any desire at the new accommodations.

 

“Curfew is nine o’clock.” Joseph began to explain, laying down the rules for Jasper. It was a conversation he hasn’t had to have with the Father in the past but before he had been working under Jacob’s orders and spent his time rotating around on guard shifts. Previous times, the rules didn’t apply to him. But now, he was pressed under their thumb and shoved into the tiny cubicle of Compound life. “Breakfast is at eight am. Lunch is noon and dinner comes at six.”

 

Joseph gestured thoughtfully. “You will be working off your debt in the following days, report to me in the church and I will assign you the tasks for the days.” He raised Jasper’s belongings in hand, a silent request for attention on the said items. “You won’t be needing your weapons while you’re here so they will stay by my side. There are spare clothes in the dresser, feel free to use the facilities as you please.” He informed in a matter of fact tone. “Any questions?”

 

Jasper hesitated at the inquiry, pausing to think over anything he may be concerned about. His gaze flitting towards his bag with yearning. He pointed at it then gestured over his heart with his fingers, drawing a circle around it. It was his sign for  _ importance.  _ Joseph stared for a moment in return, not as well versed in Jasper’s signs and signals as Angelo and Jacob were. “Is there something you need in here?” He asked, garnering a nod of affirmation from Jasper. 

 

Joseph moved towards the dresser and sat the items down, letting the bag settle before opening the strap securing it shut. Jasper pointed inside of the bag where his knife and firearm were tucked amidst many other items. The one thing that truly mattered was the small stuffed animal inside. Joseph’s eyes lit up with understanding as he carefully removed the sentimental object from the deadlier ones and handed it over to Jasper. The mute appeared content, tucked it against his chest as his fingers automatically started brushing over the ruffled parts of the stuffy’s body. “If that’s all, I will leave you for the evening.” Jasper nodded again before Joseph smiled. “Good night, my child.”

 

The Father left with Jasper’s things in hand, shutting the door to the small building with a soft click. The night fell into silence as Jasper looked around the tiny living space and sighed. He set Ohana on the bed, the little stuffy’s worn beady eyes staring vacantly towards the dresser. A very short inspection by Jasper of the contents and the mute felt even more miserable about his situation. Nothing but gaudy Eden’s Gate sweaters, thread bare in places and the ugliest shade of olive green he’s ever seen. He dug around and found a decent pair of sweatpants that would hold him over for the night. The shower was just as god awful cold as any other outpost but a few degrees more tolerable than the lakes and streams around the County. 

 

He was at least able to properly rinse off and soap up, the generic soap lacking any real scent at all, but he figured no scent was good enough. With clean skin and damp hair, he dried off. The sweatpants hung on his hips as he walked around barefoot, the strings pulled as tight as they could go on his lithe frame. The sweater was at least warm enough to tolerate as he washed his clothes in the sink with the same bar of soap he showered with. He hung them up to dry and stared at the pitiful display they made.

 

A soft sound rose in his throat as he turned towards the bed, the only reassurance came in the presence of the canine stuffy. He tucked Ohana to his chest and curled up under the scratchy wool blanket. Sleep continued to elude him, even as night ticked by. The light remained on inside his little hut and he resorted to searching the nightstand for something interesting to keep his mind occupied. He should have known his luck had run dry when the only item inside the stand was a copy of the Book of Joseph. An intrusive thought rose at the idea of burning the damn thing for an extra bit of warmth but Jasper’s sparks of pyromania were the reason he landed in this position. 

 

He sighed, set the book back inside the drawer and rolled back over so he was facing the tiny window looking out from over the dresser. He tossed and turned throughout the night until the first rays of grey light peeked into the window. The fog was steadily rolling across the lake surface, steam curling along the shoreline and dancing between the buildings with a mysterious aura that left an unsettling sense of peace about the compound. Jasper was the first to leave his hut. The guards lingered on the edges, sleepy eyed and looking considerably colder from the dew sprinkling their shoulders and back. Their noses were reddened by the chill, the flush creeping across their skin. 

 

Jasper may not have been trapped under the rules of the compound in past instances but he was well aware of how things worked. Including, a well educated knowledge on the kitchen. He slipped inside the mess hall and checked the notes left behind from the dinner crew. There was no designated breakfast for the morning allowing Jasper to have a little fun with his free time. He started off by brewing coffee, filling the dispensers and making the rounds with warm styrofoam cups, steam dancing on the rims. The gesture was greatly appreciated by the guards who accepted it with enthusiasm. Once the shift was perked back up, knowing they would linger on guard until breakfast. The next shift would exchange halfway through allowing the night crew to eat their fill and rest. 

 

Jasper retreated back to the kitchen and began designing the morning menu, writing it on a whiteboard as he went. Slowly the staff trickled in and joined him, slipping into the same ease in which they worked with the mute during sermons and other mandatory gatherings. Jasper much rather spend his time in the kitchen than be preached at about the evils of society and the morals of mankind. This was his own form of religion. Cracking eggs into mixing bowls, a whisk in one hand and a gallon of milk in the other. His chilled form thawed by the heat of a flat top.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and kudos down below of what you think so far. Thank you!


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